By Word of Mouth rewritten!
by jona
Summary: After his traumatic 5th year Harry’s had a BAD summer… and now, his desperate attempt to appease the Dursleys is resulting in unforeseen consequences for his 6th year. (post-OotP) Jona xxx
1. Chapter One 'Mockery'

A/N – Hi there everyone! *waves*.
    Those of you who have maybe read something of mine before will probably know that I've been away for a while.
    Well I've finally gotten around to re-writing the start of this fic as promised and I thought it was about time I posted something again.
    *smiles*.
    If you read 'By Word of Mouth' before then I suggest you re read the re-writes as I've changed it quite a bit to transform it into a 6th year story.
    It took a bit of doing but I hope you enjoy it…

****

BY WORD OF MOUTH

__

'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'

CHAPTER 1 – Mockery of a wizards cape
    
     Harry endured the Dursleys in silence.

By the end of the summer, his Uncle Vernon didn't even bother telling him to 'keep quiet' as they arrived at Kings Cross. Indeed, the Dursleys had almost forgotten what Harry's voice sounded like.

The family made quick their escape as soon as they got to the station, leaving Harry to find his own way to platform 9¾ so that they could avoid any contact with any of the other 'freaks'. Harry had warned them at the start of summer that it was likely that Order members would be watching him closely as soon as he left 4 Privet Drive.

The-Boy-Who-Lived staggered slightly with the weight of his trunk. He felt infinitely grateful that he'd sent Hedwig off that morning.

The noise of the bustling station was already fraying at his nerves as his head continued to ache. Incessant hooting from his pet would have been an unwelcome addition.

He hauled his trunk onto a trolley and after pausing to rub the aching scar on his forehead he started off for the wizarding platform.

***

Ron and Hermione waited impatiently, beside the gleaming red train, for their friend. 

Neither of them had seen Harry since they'd said goodbye on this very platform at the end of last term. They had of course maintained contact through numerous owls back and forth between their respective houses and the Dursley residence.

Both of them had been concerned at the letters Harry had sent them.

It was clear to them that Harry was being treated with the usual hostility by the Dursleys despite the threats from the Order. More worrying than that, he'd been continuing to have dreams from Voldemort and his scar had been paining him with alarmingly increased regularity.

Hermione had noticed in the most recent letter she'd received that, in two places, the ink had been messed by Harry's shaking hand, and that his writing had become almost as scrawled as Hagrid's.

The time was getting uncomfortably close to eleven o clock before the familiar shock of black hair belonging to Harry Potter, appeared out of the crowd.

Both Hermione and Ron threw their arms around their friend ignoring their teenage awkwardness in their relief at seeing Harry in one piece.

"Harry! We were getting worried!"

Gasped Hermione as Ron knelt to retrieve Harry's fallen trunk.

"The train's about to leave!"

Exclaimed Ron noticing that the platform was almost empty and scrambling to get the trunk into the carriage he and Hermione had already claimed.

"How are you?"

Asked Hermione as she looked down at her hand, which completely encircled Harry's bony wrist.

Harry simply shook his head and pulled her after Ron, onto the train.

Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione's scrutinising gaze. He had known that everyone would notice his skinny and unnaturally pale appearance.

It wasn't unsurprising he looked this way having spent the majority of the summer holiday holed up in his room, not even finding the stomach to eat the meagre amounts the Dursleys would spare him.

His mind drifted back to the first day of the summer holiday…

****

~~~

He woke up in a cold sweat, the pain in his scar gradually ebbing away under his fingertips, taking with it the details of his nightmare.

He could see his Uncle's red face in front of him forming words, he was probably shouting, but Harry couldn't make out the words above the deafening hum in his ears.

At his lack of response no doubt, his Uncle had grabbed Harry's shoulders.

Forcing himself to make out the demand by reading his Uncle's lips Harry understood that he'd 'woken the family and most probably the entire neighbourhood' with his 'childish screaming fit' and should 'shut the hell up or else.'

Nodding dumbly Harry willed his Uncle to leave, and by some stroke of luck the over-large man shoved him down on the bed and stormed out, his navy dressing gown flowing behind him in a mockery of a wizards cape.

With an uneasy shudder Harry prayed that no more dreams would come before he could figure a way to stop his screaming, and fell into a restless sleep.

~~~

"Harry!"

Ron's yell made Harry leap about a foot into the air in surprise. Realising that he'd been oblivious to his two friends since they'd gotten onto the train his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Good grief Harry, where were you?"

Said Ron with a slightly nervous laugh.

"It wasn't a… an attack from the Dark Lord was it Harry?"

Asked Hermione suddenly.

Harry shook his head sharply.

He hadn't had many more daytime visions yet. Voldemort seemed to enjoy tormenting Harry when the boy was at his most vulnerable, at night-time, when his nightmares and memories seemed closer than ever.

"That's a relief."

Said Hermione staring at Harry with growing concern.

She's probably realised that I haven't said anything yet. Thought Harry suddenly.

As if on cue Hermione addressed Harry again

"Have you been in contact with Dumbledore recently Harry?"

She asked in a hushed voice.

Harry inwardly sighed. It would be obvious now… He wouldn't be able to answer this question with a simple nod of the head.

He gazed up at Hermione and Ron taking in their concerned faces and felt traitorous tears prickle at the backs of his eyes.

He couldn't answer them, and he couldn't say why.

"Why aren't you talking to us Harry?"

Asked Ron in the most controlled, serious voice Harry had ever heard him use.

I can't! Screamed Harry's mind.

He choked back the frustration and motioned that he needed quill and parchment.

Ron and Hermione glanced in worried confusion at each other before Hermione pulled a quill and parchment from her bag and handed them to Harry.

For a moment Harry wondered how to write down what he wanted to tell them but then he realised that he needed ink.

Looking back up at his friends' impatient faces he held up the quill.

"What?"

Asked Ron, the irritation clear in his voice.

"Can't you just get on writing Harry!"

Harry couldn't help but grin at Ron's misunderstanding, which caused both of the friends opposite him to start looking rather angry.

Realising that he'd have to make them understand somehow he put the quill on the paper and scribbled dry lines.

Hermione quickly understood and plucked a bottle of ink from her bag.

Ron shook his head in mild embarrassment offering Harry a small apologetic smile.

With loaded quill Harry was still stumped as to how best to explain his situation but he didn't dare delay writing any longer.

****

'can't speak… silencing potion.'

He scribbled quickly, turning the parchment towards them.

"Silencing potion!"

Shouted Hermione loudly

Harry winced at the assault on his eardrums but nodded anyway, placing a calming hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Why on Earth did you take that stuff Harry? It tastes disgusting! And where'd you get it from?"

Asked Ron with a frown creasing his brow.

Harry glanced at his friends wondering if they might not have guessed why he needed the potion, he thought they might have gotten the idea from his letters.

****

'Brewed it myself, so that I don't bother anyone with my screaming.'

Ron gulped audibly and Hermione went even paler.

"Has it really gotten that bad Harry?"

She asked.

Harry nodded and hung his head, remembering just how bad it had gotten.

****

~~~

After just a few nights, Harry's voice was so hoarse that he could only manage a whisper at best when he tried to talk. At nights he'd lay awake musing on how unfair it was that despite this handicap his voice still managed to produce screams.

"If I hear a peep from you tonight I won't be held responsible for what happens after. Drink coffee, take some pills, do whatever… Just keep your mouth shut."

Growled his Aunt as she added concealer to her baggy eyes.

Harry just nodded miserably.

He knew that it wouldn't matter what he did. The visions would come whether he was asleep or awake. He had even started having trances during the daytime if he let his mind wander for even a second, letting his occlumency falter.

He didn't really need the threat from his Aunt. He'd already decided that morning to brew the potion…

~~~

Harry blinked as the carriage came back into view and grimaced apologetically at his friends.

He couldn't seem to stop zoning out. If it wasn't a trance, mind attack or vision then it was memories that assaulted him. The time he spent conscious to the world was diminishing with each passing day.

"Don't worry Harry mate. Hermione says that we'll go straight to Dumbledore at the feast and explain. He'll get Snape to give you the antidote potion."

Harry smiled weakly and rubbed his scar gently as it began to throb.

Ron busied himself rummaging through his bag for his exploding snap cards, but Hermione was still watching Harry, nervously biting her lower lip in concern.

"It hurts again right?"

Harry nodded and sighed softly, shrugging his shoulders.

"If it hurts so much of the time, maybe there's something the teachers can do. Snape may be a greasy git, but he IS a potions master."

She suggested laying a hand on top of Harry's head and pulling his fringe back to expose the troublesome scar.

Harry winced at she ran her finger along the slight groove in his forehead and the pain from it flared incredibly.

"Sorry!" She gasped, leaning right back in her seat away from Harry and looking mortified.

Ron interrupted as a loud bang and a cloud of telltale purple smoke indicated that he'd found the Exploding Snap cards.

Harry grinned weakly as Ron rubbed at the black smudge that had appeared on his nose. It was so reminiscent of his very first trip on the Hogwarts Express…

Just as Harry was about to daze again Ron caught his attention by shoving a pile of cards into his hand.

With a conscious effort to keep his mind on track of the game, for fear of singed fingers, Harry joined his two best friends in a game of Exploding Snap.

And for those few minutes while they played, even his scar stopped hurting, and he felt… normal.


	2. Chapter Two 'Quite a fix'

__

Hello

I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to,

Hello

(Evanescence)

CHAPTER 2 – 'You've gotten yourself into quite a fix'

The arrival at Hogwarts signified a dramatic relapse in Harry's mood.

Hermione and Ron sent furtive glances at each other, which Harry couldn't help but notice.

An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach despite his best attempts to shake it and Harry mourned the loss of his earlier appetite keenly.

The three friends stepped out onto the platform and were greeted by the sort of pelting rain that frequents much of Britain in the autumn.

"Bloody rain."

Grumbled Ron, whilst tightening his cloak and hurrying towards the nearby carriages.

Hermione was about to do likewise when she noticed Harry's stillness.

"Harry?"

She probed reaching towards her motionless friend.

The-Boy-Who-Lived didn't move.

"Ron! Come back!"

She called, turning away to summon the redhead to her aid.

On turning back Hermione's heart hammered as she was met with empty space.

"Harry!"

She shrieked glancing frantically about the crowded platform.

"What is it Herm?"

Asked Ron who had rejoined her.

Hermione suddenly caught sight of their friend and pointed in Harry's direction.

Ron paled as the sight reached his eyes.

Standing several metres away, with slumped shoulders, rain coursing down his slight form stood Harry Potter…

And in front of him stood Cedric Diggory,

perfectly etched in stone,

smiling with modest bravery and holding an unmoving stone snitch in his clasped stone fist.

---

For several moments Harry just stared at the statue only half comprehending.

Cedric's face.

The face that had haunted his dreams ever since his fourth year stared back at him.

Harry sensed accusation in the stone cold eyes.

He barely noticed the rain that soaked him through, nor did he notice that his glasses were speckled with droplets that travelled slowly across his vision.

Dimly, at the back of his mind, Harry knew that someone was calling his name, and he had a faint sense of being held. But all he could see was Cedric's face.

Even as he closed his eyes against the tears, the visage remained.

And soon it was joined by the face of his godfather. He felt himself start to shake as he relived the torment of watching as the man closest to a father fell backwards through The Veil and was lost to him forever.

As if Harry's moment of weakness had been realised, Voldemort chose that moment to send a wave of unconquerable pain through the link they shared.

Yelling silent screams and clawing desperately at the scar on his forehead, Harry crumpled to the ground, meeting the wet floor with a thump.

The words Avada Kedavra formed his last coherent thought before Harry's body gave out on him.

***

The bright white light was merciless to his eyes as he fought to prise them open.

Harry realised after one frightening moment that he was safe in the Hogwarts infirmary and that the light was in fact dimmer than his eyes had suggested.

His scar thrummed with an ache that had become second nature, but which thankfully no longer burned.

He started struggling to sit up and immediately regretted it. The customary post-Voldemort-scar-pain headache was upon him in an instant.

Feeling slightly dizzy Harry realised that he was still in his soaking wet robes and that his rain-speckled glasses were hanging from one ear.

Feeling slightly uneasy Harry braved the worsening of his headache in order to get a look around the room.

It was completely empty.

Even Madame Pomfrey was no-where to be seen.

Not knowing quite what he ought to do Harry removed his glasses from their precarious position and wiped them dry on a patch of dry bed sheet.

Glancing guiltily at the sodden bed he wondered who had brought him here and why he'd been left there all alone.

As it happened Madame Pomfrey burst into the room a second later, immediately followed by…

Professor Snape.

Harry watched them wearily as they hurried towards him, his head pounded with every little noise, their footsteps alone had him suppressing a flinch as each one fell.

"You're awake!"

Harry had to wince at the matron's exclamation, he once again had to force his eyes open and almost let them slam closed again when he saw Madame Pomfrey's concerned face peering down at him.

He glanced at Snape who was regarding him with a calculating stare, and he wondered for a moment what Snape would have to say about his silencing potion but that thought was quickly crushed by a wave of some indescribable emotion, which effortlessly overpowered his barriers.

Suddenly, to his eternal shame he found himself crying. Silent tears coursed down his face and his body involuntarily hitched with sobs causing the pain in his head to multiply.

He vaguely noted that Pomfrey and Snape seemed in argument over something but he couldn't manage to focus on them, Cedric's face was once again in his vision, his worst memories once again began to replay themselves in his mind…

****

~~~

'We both got here. Let's just take it together'…

…'Wands out, d'you reckon?'…

…'Someone's coming.'…

…'Kill the spare… Avada Kedavra!'

'SIRIUS! SIRIUS!'…

'There's nothing you can do, Harry-'…

'Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!'…

'-it's too late, Harry.'…

'We can still reach him – '…

"There's nothing you can do, Harry … nothing … he's gone.'

~~~

Harry's eyes shot open again, memories of his most recent vision flooded back.

He looked at Snape and wondered whether or not the ex-Death Eater knew what had happened.

Moving slowly so as to avoid jarring his head needlessly Harry reached over and pulled on the potions professor's sleeve.

He once again motioned for quill and parchment hoping that the professor would recognise the urgency in his slightly sluggish motions.

Snape seemed to respond that way and summoned a quill and parchment from Pomfrey's desk.

Harry made a conscious effort to steady his hand of its slight tremors before carefully scratching out the words.

****

'Karkaroff dead'

The sallow face of Harry's least favourite teacher paled even further as Snape made out his writing and Harry slumped against his pillows in relief when Snape hurried out of the Hospital Wing in order to fetch the headmaster from the sorting feast.

The sudden uproar that emanated from the corridor outside the Hospital Wing caught Harry's attention.

He recognised his two best friends' voices immediately and sent an imploring look at the matron, which she promptly misinterpreted.

"I will not be letting those two in here until I've given you a thorough checking over young man! I don't know what you were thinking… Home-made potions… swooning fits…"

And as Poppy Pomfrey continued to rant Harry took a moment to be immensely glad that the woman was so adamant and territorial over her Hospital Wing.

The last thing Harry wanted at the moment was his best friends.

They'd be worried.

He didn't want them concerned any further when the whole truth came out.

***

The 'thorough checking over' was horribly embarrassing for Harry. He reluctantly allowed the Hogwarts matron to see his overly skinny frame and the unnatural pallor of his skin.

He explained about the slight bruising of his shoulders where his Uncle's fingers had left marks from his over-enthusiastic shaking.

Eventually the ordeal was over and Harry just stared at the floor ignoring the pity of the matron.

Once Harry was changed into Hospital pyjamas, Madame Pomfrey allowed Professor Snape back in and the potions master was unable to conceal his surprise at seeing Harry's skinny frame now shed of thick robes.

After an uncomfortable pause the Professor frowned and gave Harry a fresh piece of parchment.

"Dumbledore will be along as soon as he is able to leave the Sorting Feast. For now, I want you to write down everything you can remember about this potion you claim to have taken."

Harry didn't meet his teacher's eyes and quickly scrawled down the name of the potion.

"The Mutius Potion. And you brewed it yourself Potter?"

Asked Snape, eyebrow raised in scepticism.

Harry nodded still refusing to look Snape in the eye.

"Well, it seems you've gotten yourself into quite a fix then."

Snape growled, raising his voice.

Harry looked up with a questioning glance.

"I cannot brew the antidote to this potion. The antidote will only be effective when brewed by the same person that brewed the original potion."

Harry's head sunk to his hands in shame. 'Why hadn't he bothered to research the antidote?'

"To make matters yet more hopeless, the antidote in question is of a level that it would take a wizard of advanced skill in potions to brew it. And of course, with your 'Exceeds Expectations' OWL result, which in itself seemed to be highly suspicious in its generosity to my mind, we can safely say that _you_ are not."

Harry shivered under Snape's steely gaze. The potions professor was wrong. It was a lot more serious then 'quite a fix'.

Quickly though, the unwelcome gaze of the potion's master dissolved in blackness and Harry was acutely aware of the sweeping flash of pain through his head as he fell back against the mattress of the hospital bed.

He was frightened.

It hadn't been this bad since Voldemort had actually possessed him at the Department of Mysteries last year.

The hospital wing faded slightly until only faint shapes were distinguishable, the predominant scene before Harry's eyes was far more terrifying than Madame Pomfrey's sterile domain.

He was seeing through Voldemort's eyes…

****

~~~

The velvet darkness of night shrouded the gathered Death Eaters.

Their pale masks were faintly illuminated by the glare of the waxing moon.

'Crucio.'

The wizard, who had finally been the one to betray Igor Karkaroff to the Death Eaters, writhed before him.

He felt no compassion for the miserable creature.

'Finite Incantatum.'

The magical bindings that had been holding the man upright disappeared and his body slumped to the ground.

With a hiss of parseltongue the man's life was nullified.

'Avada Kedavra' was the incantation, spoken in a snake's voice.

~~~

"Harry! Please wake up!"

Hermione's frantic screaming seemed distant, the sound of flames crackling was more prominent.

Harry desperately wanted to wake up. But he was still between worlds. The burning body of Voldemort's hapless victim was before him, but a vague image of Hermione's terrified face superimposed the image and Harry's scar flared with pain.

"No, please!" He tried to shout.

No sound came out.

The pain through his head was amplified and Harry could feel himself screaming even if it was inaudible.

Gradually, with agonising slowness, his mind recoiled from Voldemort and like water flowing downstream it steadily found its way back to Hogwarts, The Hospital Wing, and the frantic screaming and shouting.

He promptly closed his eyes unwilling to see anything.

The chaos was noisy.

There was too much noise.

At least Hermione had stopped screaming at him.

But did the rest of them have to shout so loudly?

Suddenly though, there was quiet.

Harry didn't need to open his eyes, for he could sense the other wizard's presence.

Dumbledore.

All of the panic and fear and tension seemed to flow from Harry, he felt himself sink onto the bed and realised that he'd been unconsciously tensed up.

Soothing calm went through his body and he eventually managed to drag his eyes open.

Dumbledore was there, his back to Harry, firmly closing the Hospital Wing door and shutting out the noise and chaos.


	3. Chapter Three 'Pensieve'

__

'I'm not afraid of flying.

I'm afraid of crashing.'

(Neil Simon)

****

CHAPTER 3 – 'I'll bet you could use a pensieve, but this is the closest I could afford'

Harry tried to struggle into a sitting position so that he could talk to the headmaster, but before he'd gotten anywhere with his tired, aching limbs, he felt strong arms holding him still.

"Harry, just relax. You need to rest yourself."

Just hearing the soft even tone of Dumbledore's voice was enough to sooth away the last vestiges of tension.

Harry silently sighed in relief, he may not have appreciated the headmaster's actions last year, but he could not deny that he was grateful that the powerful old wizard had taken control of this particular situation. He decided that he would do as Dumbledore requested, for now.

"Now my boy. It seems we have quite a situation."

Looking up at the headmaster's calm, yet sombre face Harry nodded slowly.

"As regards the silencing potion I am sure there are steps that we may take to resolve the issue. That is not my concern.

I know that you are exhausted dear boy, but I must ask that you allow me to perform a simple charm."

Harry tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in question.

He didn't miss the tiniest falter in the headmaster's eyes, he knew that Dumbledore regretted the fact that he no longer had Harry's complete trust.

"It will simply allow me to ascertain your condition Mr Potter, nothing more."

With a tiny nod Harry acquiesced.

The spell was only barely detectable as a tiny tingle of magic. Harry simply closed his eyes, too tired to pay much attention.

He vaguely heard Dumbledore murmur to himself but didn't try to hear what the headmaster was saying. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The latest vision was still with him… As with all the others it had been firmly imprinted on his mind.

He could still smell the smoky, rancid, smell of burning flesh.

He could still feel the heat from the flames tickling the skin of his face.

And most terrible of all, he could still feel the thrills of Voldemort's excitement that had travelled down his spine.

Everything about it made him feel deeply nauseous and ashamed.

When he eventually opened his eyes again he could see Dumbledore regarding him thoughtfully.

"Do you know what happened to your body when your last vision was occurring, Harry?"

Asked Dumbledore, in an unusually soft voice.

Frowning, Harry slowly shook his head.

"When I arrived you had caused quite an uproar. It's only fair to let you know. Harry… When you were in the throes of that last vision you were enacting what I can only assume must have been Voldemort's actions."

Harry felt as though his pounding heart had suddenly forgotten how to beat. 

A wave of revulsion, terror and nausea shook though him and he keeled over and started choking on the bile that had hit the back of his throat.

He barely registered Dumbledore's hand on his back until the dizziness subsided and the black spots in his vision cleared away.

He realised then that he was shaking.

He felt cold. The thin Hospital wing pyjamas seemed more inadequate then ever.

Feeling too dazed and weak to protest, Harry allowed Dumbledore to ease his trembling body back onto the mattress and was instantly grateful for the warm sheets that were tucked around his body.

"Relax Harry. I'm here now, and I _will_ try and help you through this, if you'll allow me. Just try to rest. Don't think about it for the time being."

Dumbledore's soft voice once again soothed Harry and his exhausted muscles seemed to melt to the bed as he slowly let sleep overpower him. Perhaps it was worth considering the headmaster's remorse. He certainly needed all the help he could get.

***

Harry was understandably surprised to awaken in his own bed in Gryffindor Tower.

He glanced to either side and noticed that none of his dorm-mates were in the room.

It was comforting to feel the familiar surroundings, as though the magic of the castle were seeping right into him, down to his bones.

He also remarked with surprise that his mind had been completely undisturbed since Dumbledore had coaxed him to sleep.

Sitting up gingerly his eyes flicked across to his trunk. He was glad to see that his things had arrived safely and he slowly shuffled across the bed and reached down into his trunk to pull out the journal that Ginny had given him for his birthday…

~~~

Harry sat on his bed surrounded by his gifts and feeling contented for the first time that summer.

He had just started stashing things away to hide them from the Dursleys when a tap on the window caught his attention.

Noticing that Pigwidgeon was out there, and struggling with a package, he quickly opened the window.

He discarded the package on his desk and opened the note, his mind brimming with curiosity.

__

'Dear Harry,

I hope you don't mind receiving yet another Weasley gift. I know that Ron and Mum have already sent things. I just wanted to give you something that was just from me. To let you know that I haven't forgotten what you did for me in my first year at Hogwarts. (I'm sure that I never properly thanked you). It's not much, but it has a significant meaning, which I'm sure you'll understand. I also wanted to thank you for the DA last year. I'm not sure if you understand just how grateful we all were that we had someone to help us learn to defend ourselves properly. I know that I personally HATE being helpless and that's exactly what Umbridge would have achieved if it weren't for the DA.

Hope you like the present.

See you in September.

Ginny'

****

After quickly re-reading the letter Harry carefully undid the neatly wrapped package and gasped as a sleek black diary fell into his lap.

There was a short inscription inside the front cover.

__

'H.P. My father has carefully checked this diary. It won't write back! After last year I'll bet you could use a pensieve, but this is the closest I could afford. I hope that you will find it useful. G.W.'

****

Harry smiled and held the journal to his chest thinking that maybe Ginny knew him better than he'd once thought.

~~~

He waited a moment, collecting his thoughts, before he wrote down an account of his return to Hogwarts.

His homecoming.

Once the pages had been filled he stopped to ponder what had been an overly harrowing day.

'And here was me, imagining that coming _home_ could solve all my problems.'

Letting the diary fall shut he slouched back against his pillows and allowed his head to roll to one side.

He noticed a small potions bottle, with a note resting against it on the bedside cabinet.

He flipped open the parchment to read the note.

****

'Potter,

Drink all of this when you wake up. It will soothe any residual aches you may have.

Professor Snape.'

When he managed to uncork the bottle the smell quickly wafted to his nose and made him grimace.

It smelt awful.

With a resigned shrug Harry gulped down the potion.

Despite the aroma it tasted surprisingly neutral, just a hint of something that had a tang of freshness, like lush green grass.

Harry was surprised to feel suddenly relieved. He realised that he'd become accustomed to harbouring the deep aches of his body and that it was the removal of this constancy that left him feeling almost giddy.

With revitalised vigour Harry found his robes and got dressed.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him that it was just nearing the end of breakfast.

Not feeling particularly hungry and unwilling to make a big entrance Harry quickly gathered his books and wondered what lesson he had first.

He had only just left the dormitory when he had his timetable in his hand and was embraced tightly by Hermione.

"I was just about to get Ron to go in and see if you were awake."

She muttered, without letting go.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Harry wriggled out of the hug and mouthed 'OK'.

"Good. You had us worried yesterday. But if you're up for classes then we'd best get a move on. It's Snape and potions first!"

Harry gave Hermione a confused look and she shook her head.

"Snape isn't happy with Dumbledore, and he's definitely in a fury with you. The headmaster is forcing the issue, you'll be taking NEWT potions after all, it's the only way you'll learn enough to be able to brew the antidote to the Mutinus potion." 

Harry's heart gave an apprehensive lurch at the thought of Snape's rage, but he nodded and followed Hermione down the stairs.

Ron was waiting for them in the common room talking to Ginny.

"There you are!"

He shouted.

"See Ginny? He's fine. Now get to Transfiguration before you get into trouble with McGonagall."

Ginny smiled weakly at Harry before turning back to her brother.

"For your information _Ronald_, Professor McGonagall _asked_ me at breakfast to check that Harry was going to classes today and tell her. After all I _am_ the new prefect."

She said smugly before flashing a quick cheeky grin at Harry and Hermione and disappearing through the portrait hole.

Hermione and Harry soon followed her out with a called,

"Snape'll kill you if you're any later."

From Ron.

They made their way swiftly down through the school to the dungeons and arrived just before Snape, gratefully sinking into their places as the professor prowled into the room.

"Today is your first NEWT lesson. As such it will be a practical lesson in order for me to make sure that everyone's brewing technique is up to scratch. Take note of the ingredients that have already been prepared for your use. Remember that timing, and procedure, are essential. I expect a comprehensive report on the consequences of inaccurate technique in which you note your observations from this class. You have until Friday to complete your write up. Even Mr Potter ought to manage _this_ assignment."

Hermione quickly rushed to go to the ingredients table and get the best of the ingredients whilst Harry began setting up their cauldron.

On her return she started rushing to prepare the pixie wings, obviously concerned about the amount of time it would take to generate enough results.

Harry leant over and waved a scrap of parchment at her.

'Let's pool our results with the others.'

Hermione blinked twice at the parchment and then twice more at her friend before whispering,

"That's an absolutely brilliant idea Harry!"

Harry merely shrugged and smiled a little before he started carefully shredding a cuspid root, Hermione taking the initiative and grouping students together to arrange the result sharing.

*

After potions Harry found himself cornered by Hermione.

"What gave you the idea?"

She whispered, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Harry shrugged again and scrawled briefly on some parchment.

'It seemed a stupid amount of work for each person, and everyone makes different mistakes as it is.'

Hermione smiled widely at him.

"Well, you certainly saved us a lot of trouble. The Slytherins were a mess! They would never have thought to help each other out like we did."

Harry just smiled and carried on down the corridor towards Defence against the Dark arts were Ron would be waiting for them.

Maybe he would be able to cope, despite the silencing potion, after all.

*~*~*~*~*

A/N

The next chapter is ¾ written so look out for another update soon!

Jona

Xxx

Thanks to everyone who's given me feedback!


	4. Chapter Four 'Confuse People'

'How can I tell when I've run out of invisible ink?'

(Steven Wright)

****

CHAPTER 4 – I like to confuse people on my own merit

Harry had not been present at the welcoming feast and he only realised as they turned up at the defence classroom that he had no idea who the new teacher would be.

He didn't want to even think about the suffering he'd gone through last year as a result of their most recent teacher. Professor Umbridge had been a true nightmare.

"You haven't given me any ink."

"Oh, you won't need ink."…

…Searing pain cutting into the back of his hand…

"Hand."…

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet."

"Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow…"

He shook his head determinedly to dispel the memory. Surely this year's professor would have to be an improvement.

Absentmindedly rubbing the faint scar on the back of his right hand, Harry nudged Hermione's shoulder.

"Who's the new teacher?"

He asked, trying to mouth the words clearly and gesturing at the door to the classroom.

Hermione blinked at him for a second, her eyes flicking to his right hand before she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Of course, you wouldn't have heard…"

She was cut off by the arrival of the new teacher, and anything she might have said to take the edge off the surprise was lost.

The wizard was quite tall but gangly, his robes swept around him in a cascade of purple, interspersed with golden stars.

His short grey hair was adorned with a streak of red that would have done Tonks proud, and his closely cut beard had been coloured to match.

"Well! If it isn't Miss Granger, and Mr Potter too. You're a tad late chaps, do hurry along inside and take your seats."

Hermione nodded quickly and dragged a gawking Harry into the classroom.

"It's Aberforth Dumbledore, Harry! The headmaster's brother!"

Harry just nodded, still too surprised to do anything else.

They didn't have to wait long before Aberforth Dumbledore entered the classroom. His robe was flapping dramatically with a flamboyance that would have done Gilderoy Lockhart proud.

Harry thought that the entrance he made was a bit over the top, but it seemed to suit the man, he had a look of amusement on his face as he took to the front of the classroom.

"Good Morning class. As you are all aware I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Please address me as Professor Aberforth, I don't wish to be a source of confusion because of my brother. I like to confuse people on my own merit."

There was a mild chuckle around the classroom and the colourful professor grinned widely.

"Seriously though. We're here to learn, I have a solemn obligation to teach you everything that you need in order to defend yourselves, what with Voldemort on the loose."

The flinches from most of the class went seemingly unnoticed by the new DADA teacher but Harry had the distinct impression that the eerily familiar blue eyes lingered on those who had not flinched.

"Let's get cracking! Who wants to demonstrate disarming?"

Several hands rose to the air including all those who had been in Harry's DA classes the year before.

"Neville Longbottom. Why don't you do the honours."

Said Aberforth, gesturing to the front of the class and taking up a duelling stance.

Neville strode forward looking uncharacteristically confident.

Harry couldn't help but smile as the mild Gryffindor successfully took the professor's wand with a good strong Expelliarmus.

"Well done Longbottom."

Said Aberforth striding slowly towards him.

Just as he got near the professor leapt forwards as if to attack.

Neville stumbled backwards in surprise and hurriedly shouted "Stupefy!"

Harry watched, as stunned as the rest of the class, and with Neville's shout in his ears felt the memories engulf him again.

'He's dot alone! He's still god be!'…

'Neville – no – go back to Ron –'…

'STUBEFY!'…

'STUBEFY STUBE-'…

'Longbottom? …Why I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents boy.'

'I DOE YOU HAB!'…

…

'DON'D GIB ID DO DEM HARRY!'…

'Crucio!'

"Harry!"

Hermione's elbow in his ribs jolted Harry out of the memory and he blinked up at the steady blue gaze that bore down on him from Professor Aberforth.

"If you don't mind answering my question Mr Potter, I was wondering if you could tell me how spells can be used in combination to aid you in a duel."

Harry shook his head slightly and swallowed. Had Aberforth not been told about the silencing potion?

When Hermione nudged him again he quickly picked up his quill and scribbled an answer.

As he handed it to the professor he noticed that the whole class was staring at him and he winced.

****

'If you can disarm your opponent then you can easily stun him and he can't block it, also, sending quick-fire spells helps to make it more difficult for your opponent to react.'

Professor Aberforth read his answer aloud to the class.

"Mr Potter is quite right. And that is why we will be practising this particular skill for the next week. Now I'd like you to take out your books and read the chapter on spell combinations. Go!"

There was a mad scramble for books and Harry gladly sank back in his chair opening the book and trying to focus on the words that swam before his eyes.

He felt a wave of fatigue sweep over him and the gentle thoughts that caressed his mind lulled him away into a trance.

'Safely under lock and key Harry Potter, protection from old Dumbledore and escape from those filthy muggles. Back among those who actually _care_ for you. Do you feel _safe_, Harry? But more, do you feel _happy?_ Is this the treatment you deserve? To be ushered into a gilded cage without so much as a by your leave? Do you honestly believe that they care about _you?_ You're a fool Harry Potter…'

Harry slammed his barriers down, he couldn't allow that voice to continue, he panted for breath at the effort it had taken to push Voldemort away and once more wished that he'd learnt more about Occlumency when he'd had the chance, before Sirius…

He shook his head violently. He couldn't let his mind wander again.

When he glanced up he saw Aberforth Dumbledore regarding him critically and he shivered.

"Alright class, there's only a couple of minutes left of class and since it's the first day back I'll let you go early, but make sure you finish reading that chapter. We'll be putting it to practice next lesson. Mr Potter, please stay behind for a moment."

Harry watched longingly after Ron and Hermione as they left shooting him concerned glances. Then he turned back looking into the blue gaze that mirrored the headmaster's.

"No need to worry Mr Potter. My brother asked me to assess you before you carry on any further with your classes. You see, there might be a problem with some of what you're asked to do. Please, could you cast me your patronus charm so that I can see it."

Harry frowned in confusion but drew his wand. Summoning a happy memory was difficult and for a while he floundered.

Professor Aberforth broke into his thoughts.

"All right, all right, never mind that for now Mr Potter. Simply cast me the levitation charm on that book on my desk."

With a silent sigh Harry raised his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He said, with a perfected swish and flick motion, although no sound of his incantation could be heard.

The book remained stubbornly on the desk and Harry realised that his wand had simply emitted a flurry of red and gold sparks, just like the first time he'd held it in Ollivander's.

He raised a confused eyebrow at his professor.

Aberforth sighed and sat on the desk taking the book in his hands.

"It is as my brother feared."

He said, kicking the table in front of him in the manner of a disgruntled schoolboy.

"I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation Mr Potter. Any charm requires correct pronunciation, as you'll no doubt remember from your earliest classes with Professor Flitwick. Spell casting is no simple trick."

Harry felt his heart stumble in his chest and icy dread came over him. He wondered how he would defend himself if he couldn't cast spells.

The professor's gnarled old hand fell on Harry's shoulder and Harry noticed that there were deeply ingrained burrs on the skin where quidditch beaters' protective gloves were worn. He smiled briefly as he remembered a time in his first year that Fred and George had been comparing the skin on their hands and arguing over who had the tougher skin. It was a beater's badge of honour to have deformed hands, at least that's what the twins had told him…

"So you see Mr Potter, we must find some way round the problem if you are to participate meaningfully in all of your NEWT classes."

Harry dragged his mind back to the issue at hand, of course it would affect his spell casting, he had only just been thinking about Neville's failed stunning curses at the Department of Mysteries, he was surprised that he hadn't thought of it before.

"So, my brother and I have discussed the matter and have a plan."

Harry turned back to his professor, who had raised his voice to get his attention, flushing a little in embarrassment.

"You have witnessed my brother's displays of wandless magic haven't you?"

Harry nodded, thinking of the limited small tasks he'd noticed the headmaster perform without a wand.

"And you yourself have been known to perform accidental wandless magic since you started Hogwarts."

Harry winced at the memory, he certainly hadn't intended to inflate his Aunt Marge but he couldn't deny that it had been his own doing.

"Well, we think that you might be able to use that particular skill to tide you over until the silencing potion can be nullified or an alternative found. And that, my boy, is why I have been chosen to train you."

Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise and Aberforth grinned at him wryly.

"I may be a bit eccentric, but you were right to study me Mr Potter, yes, I did notice you watching me in class. I am more proficient at wandless magic then even my brother."

Before Harry could think about his remark Aberforth waved his hand and transfigured the book that Harry had attempted to levitate, into a small golden hourglass.

"Now, I'll admit, I didn't charm the time-turner wandlessly, it was only the shape that was transfigured. But still, a nifty bit of magic, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded and stared at the time-turner desperately blocking the memories of his third year… of Hermione… and of Sirius, his godfather borne away atop Buckbeak the hippogriff, shrinking into the horizon…

"Harry. You are to use this time-turner to give yourself an extra hour after each DADA class in which I will train you in wandless magic, which, as you'll have realised, requires no incantation, but a lot of concentration. But for now, you'd better be going along to Charms. Flitwick, and the other teachers, have been informed not to ask you to perform incantations for the first few weeks, but you still need to learn the theory! Chop! Chop!"

Harry smiled gratefully at the professor before taking his bag and making his way to charms feeling a bit overwhelmed by the new teacher, but fairly content all the same.

He only hoped that it wouldn't be long before he could cast spells again.

The extreme vulnerability of being as good as powerless, if he were to come up against the Dark Lord again in this state the prophecy would certainly be fulfilled.

Trying not to think about the prophecy and with a valiant attempt to quash the nervous flutterings in his stomach, Harry finally arrived at Flitwick's classroom.

"Ah Mr Potter, good to see you with us, do take a seat next to Miss Granger, there's a good fellow."

Professor Flitwick seemed especially cheery today, and Harry wasn't about to challenge his good mood, so he sat quickly next to Hermione, despite the fact that he knew she would want to know what Aberforth had kept him back for.

Even Harry himself could see that it was silly, but he really didn't want anyone to know about his inability to perform charms, and especially not Hermione, the most successful witch in the year.

As it turned out, Hermione was far too distracted by the topic of their class.

The Fidelius Charm.

As soon as Harry read the heading of her notes he felt a shiver run right the way up his spine. Why did everything seem to come back to Voldemort? Was there nothing in the wizarding world that wasn't tainted by his insidious presence?

Hermione had noticed his pale face and instinctively placed a hand on his shoulder. Harry barely felt it's weight, he was shivering properly now. He could barely hear Flitwick's squeaky voice describing the charm that ought to have kept Voldemort away from his family, the charm that could have prevented him from becoming 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. Harry couldn't help but glance at Neville.

How he wondered what Neville's life must be like.

He could easily see the parallels, it wasn't surprising really that they had both suffered so much.

Harry tried quickly to quash the swelling bubble of resentful hate he felt for the prophecy. It was pointless after all to dwell on something over which he had no control.

He would just have to bear down and work hard. There had to be some way he could face his destiny. After all, hadn't the prophecy mentioned some power that he was supposed to have?

He'd just have to find out what this power was. He had to, or else he'd surely be dead, and despite what Professor Snape might have to say about his foolish dances with death, one thing that Harry knew was that he did not want to die… not yet.

A/N - Hi guys, sorry that this took longer than I'd hinted at. I'm afraid my exams took up a lot more of my time/energy and everything, plus some of you will know that I was really quite ill a while ago so obviously I didn't really feel up to using my brain much. I hope it's been worth the wait though! Thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to review, you're wonderful! All the best to you all! Jona xxx


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